Chapter Nine
Ellen’s hands turned icy as Lucy and Martha entered the train compartment. Was that Will’s breathing she heard? Would the girls notice they’d rummaged through their belongings?
“Ellen, what are you doing here? I thought you’d be getting ready for tonight’s show.” Lucy moved past her to her trunk.
“I, uh, I—”
“That’s strange.” Lucy knelt in front of her valise. “I always keep Mother’s picture on the top so it doesn’t get damaged. Why is it on the bottom?”
Ellen wanted to smack her forehead. She’d searched Lucy’s possessions. How could she have forgotten to put the photograph back?
“Who knows? So many strange things are happening.” She wished Lucy would hurry. The sooner Will left, the better. They shouldn’t have come in here.
“And my thimble. I can’t find it.”
Ellen knew where it was. She’d found it in the pocket of the skirt Lucy wore earlier. “Have you checked all your pockets?”
“Here it is.” Lucy stood and brushed the dirt from her gown. “It’s almost like you knew it was there. Are you ready to get back to work? You can walk with us.”
“I’ll be there in just a minute. I need some headache powders.”
The two women left. Ellen slumped against a berth.
“I’m glad I rolled under there.” Will emerged from his hiding spot holding a piece of paper.
“What’s that?”
“Something tells me it’s the clue we’re looking for.”
He unfolded it. “ ‘Dearest Mama.’ ”He scanned the page. “Ah, here. ‘Constance is a continuous thorn in my side.’”
She flew at Will, diving for the scrap in his hand.
He snatched it out of her reach and spun with his back to her. “‘I wish some calamity would befall her so she would be forced to leave the circus. Nothing grand, but some misfortune. Then, I could work in peace. Without her, the wardrobe would run with greater efficiency. My job would be easier.’”
She reached around him and snatched the letter from his hand. “I meant to throw that in the stove.”
He turned to face her, his hazel eyes empty. “I’m sure you did. You never hid the fact you disliked her. But I believed you wouldn’t do such a terrible thing.”
A drip of sweat rolled down her back. “I didn’t. I wrote that when I was upset. As soon as I put the words to paper, I regretted them. That’s why I wanted it destroyed. You have to believe me. I have an alibi.”
“I don’t know how or when you did it, but you fooled everyone.” His words held no hint of warmth. “I’m sorry I trusted you.”
He headed for the exit.
“Will, don’t go. I’m telling the truth.” She swallowed around the lump in her throat.
He didn’t look back.
Ellen sat on her berth and hugged herself. She had come to care for him. Why had she opened her heart? Now, she would run into him and Constance every day. For the rest of the season.
If she stayed that long. He might be in Mr. Ringling’s car right now. Would they give her train fare home after they fired her?
What about the toll on her family? She’d failed to help them when they needed it most. That note sealed Mama’s death sentence.
How many times had Poppa warned her to watch her tongue? That applied to the pen, too. She’d brought this on herself.
Digging her fingernails into her palms to keep the tears at bay, she shuffled toward the dressing tent. By this time tomorrow, she expected to be on an eastbound train. In the meantime, she’d oversee one last show.
Wednesday, June 17, 1896
“Mr. Jorgensen, wake up. The devil’s on the train. We need your help. Fast.”
Will rolled over in bed as the train clacked its way through Iowa. What a strange dream. He covered his head with his pillow.
“Mr. Jorgensen.”
He was sleeping, wasn’t he?
“Sir, the devil’s visiting us.”
He opened his eyes and sat up. Frank Brown, the brakeman, stood at the foot of the bed holding a lantern, his eyes wide, his hair wild.
“What’s going on?”
“There’s an awful racket on top of the cars. I went investigating like the conductor told me to, and I met the devil. Large horns and a long beard, just like in all the drawings I seen of him.”
Will rolled out of bed and yanked on a pair of pants. “I don’t know what it was, but you didn’t see the devil. Let me have a look.”
“Thanks so much, sir. But you be careful, now. Don’t go falling off. And don’t sell him your soul.”
Will followed Frank through the cars until they came to a flatbed piled with tent canvases and poles.
“I seen him on top of that there car.” Frank handed Will the lantern.
The train raced across the dark farmland while Will shimmied up a tent pole and onto the top of the car. Like a newborn foal, he used great caution as he stood. Laughter welled inside of him and burst from his lips when he saw what Frank called the devil. The Nepalese mountain goat used in the menagerie stared back at him. “How on earth did you get up here?”
The goat lowered his head.
The lights of a little town whipped past. His fingers tingled, and his foot slid on the dewy metal. He lowered himself to all fours and, as fast as possible, crawled back the way he’d come, down the pole.
“Did you see him? Wasn’t I right?”
The goat followed Will, and in one flying leap, landed on a roll of canvas. Frank bellowed, stumbling backward.
The animal jumped on the car’s floor and back into his cage.
“Secure that door. If it was open enough for him to get in, it must have been open enough for him to get out.” Will leaned forward to catch his breath.
Frank locked the latch. “When he lunged at me, I thought I was done for.”
“Just a rogue out for a midnight stroll.” He and Frank returned through the men’s sleeping car.
Mr. Ringling stood in the middle of the compartment, wrapped in his dressing robe. “What’s going on?”
Not what Will needed. Especially since he never went to Mr. Ringling about his suspicions regarding Ellen. Something held him back. Stopped him from sharing his worst fear. “Nothing, sir. A little incident with the Nepalese goat, but that’s been handled.”
“My porter woke me claiming the brakeman saw the devil.”
“My apologies. I handled the incident. Let me walk you back to your car.”
“The devil, of all things. That man better not have been drinking.”
The prohibition on alcohol set the Ringling circus apart. “Not at all. Shadows in the middle of the night played tricks on his mind.”
They crossed into the dining car. “Now that this matter is cleared up, tell me about your investigation into the happenings in the wardrobe department.”
The costume cutting happened a week ago. Will thought of the desperation in Ellen’s voice, the pleading in her eyes. He wanted to believe her. But that slip of paper taunted him. “I have a suspect.”
Mr. Ringling smoothed down his mustache. “And who might that be?”
Should he say? Keep quiet, hoping to find evidence that pointed away from Ellen? He rubbed the back of his neck. “I want to complete the investigation first.”
They entered another car and stopped in front of Will’s compartment. “This is my operation, my train, my employees. I have a duty to take care of them. Share with me what you’ve found. I’ll determine what happens.”
Like one of the caged lions, Will was trapped. “A few days ago, I found a letter written by—”
Will’s porter rushed breathless into the car. “Sorry to disturb you.” The man tipped his hat.
“What is it, Harry?”
“You’d better come. Some ruckus in the Alvena.”
Will clung to the brass rail along the wall as the train swung a wide turn. Something involving Ellen? He should have gone to Mr. Ringling earlier. “I’
ll be right there.”
Mr. Ringling poked Will’s arm. “This better not be about those two wardrobe women. I’ll hold you personally responsible if it is.”
“I hope not, sir.”
More than anything.
Chapter Ten
Will hustled from his car, following his porter. Trouble in the Alvena. His entire body tingled.
He pushed by Mr. Ringling and raced toward the sleeping car. He didn’t care that he bumped into the berths where his roustabouts and the canvas men slept. All he cared about was keeping his job.
He refused to go down in history as the shortest-lived trainmaster.
And, if he had to be honest with himself, he cared about Ellen.
He heard women’s cries and shouts before he arrived. He entered and leaned against the wall to catch his breath. One voice rang above them.
“Let me go. I’m innocent.”
Ellen. Tears laced her words.
He pushed through the crowd, which fell silent. Mr. Ringling must have entered. Will worked his way to the inner circle of women.
Constance stood behind Ellen, pinning her arms behind her back. Tears streamed down Ellen’s cheeks.
Constance narrowed her eyes. “She tried to suffocate me.”
The train lurched. Will stumbled, then regained his balance. “She what?”
“You’re lying.”
“I caught her standing over me.”
“She grabbed me as I walked past.” Ellen sucked in her breath as Constance tightened her grip.
“They should have locked you up in Geneseo. Will might have saved you then. Not this time. Not if I have anything to say about it.”
Mr. Ringling stepped into the center of the action, legs akimbo, arms crossed.
Will cleared his throat and forced his voice to remain steady. “Let go of her.”
“What?” Constance dragged Ellen in Will’s direction. “You want me to free a murderer?”
“You’re alive.”
“Only because I’m stronger. If I wasn’t, I’d be dead.”
“I said let her go. She won’t get away. Not with this mob.”
Constance released her grip. Ellen rubbed her wrists. She swiped away a few tears. “Thank you.”
“I didn’t exonerate you. Far from it. We’re going to get to the bottom of this. No one goes to sleep until I hear the story. And the truth.”
“She—”
Will signaled for Constance to be quiet. “I know your version. I want to hear Miss Meyer’s.”
“I got up to…”
“To what? Tell the truth. All of it.”
Red flooded her face, rivaling the scarlet of the ringmaster’s coat. “To use the chamber pot.” She studied her bare feet.
He wanted to fold her into his embrace. To make this all go away. Why did he want to do that when he believed she’d perpetrated the earlier crimes? What brought out this protective streak? “Go on.”
“I was walking back when Constance grabbed me and screamed. That’s all. It’s my word against hers.”
Will sighed. They had no proof either way.
“Who else would it have been? She’s the one I fought off and grabbed. I can’t be mistaken.” Constance crowed like a proud rooster.
Mr. Ringling rubbed his lower back. “The evidence isn’t in your favor, Miss Meyer.”
Ellen’s voice regained a measure of strength. “It’s not in hers, either. There’s no proof I did this. She’s making it up. Look. She doesn’t have a single mark on her.”
Will examined Constance. Her hair hung down her back in a neat braid. If she’d struggled with Ellen, it would be mussed. Instead, not a hair was out of place.
He studied Ellen, her arms bare midway up. Constance said she fought her attacker. Yet Ellen’s arms showed no fresh bruises or scratches. Her hair hung in wild curls.
What should he do? He had to please Mr. Ringling. But the helpless, frightened look in Ellen’s wide green eyes ate at him.
He drew in a deep breath, prepared to answer.
Ellen couldn’t control the shaking that racked her.
Murder.
Constance accused her of attempted murder.
Falsely.
Would anyone believe her?
She wanted to crumple to the ground in a puddle of tears. She’d failed her family. Failed Mama. The woman who gave her everything.
Mama would die. Her younger brothers and sisters would grow up without her love.
Mr. Ringling’s voice penetrated her fear-laced haze. “Never have I encountered such trouble. It’s not becoming to a family like ours. If the public learns about these problems, our sales will be affected, our reputation sullied. I refuse to have that. Ringling Brothers is a family-friendly show, and I aim to keep it that way.”
Ellen went numb. Did Marie Antoinette feel this way as the henchmen led her to the guillotine?
“Miss Meyer, we will let you off at the next station. As soon as we arrive, you are to disembark and leave the circus. Since there is no evidence against you, I won’t involve the authorities. But these disruptions happened after I employed you. I have to maintain peace and order in my show.”
Constance stood on her tiptoes and almost jumped up and down, like an eager schoolchild ready to give the answer. “Who will replace her?”
“You’re the longest serving wardrobe staff member?”
“That’s correct.” Constance out-beamed the gas lights.
“Then you’re the new wardrobe mistress. I trust there will be no further incidents once Miss Meyer is gone.”
“There won’t be. I’ll do my utmost to make my department a model of efficiency.”
If Ellen’s mouth hadn’t gone dry, she might have laughed. Or shouted at Mr. Ringling and everyone else. How could they believe Constance over her?
Will was right. The circus was a family. One she didn’t belong to. She wasn’t part of them. Never would be. Maybe Miss Anna would give her back her old dress shop job. The low pay wouldn’t be enough to send Mama to the sanatorium, but it would help the rest of her family.
“Do you understand, Miss Meyer?”
She nodded. “Yes, sir.”
The crowd dissipated. She returned to her berth and lay beside Lucy.
“I’m so sorry, Ellen. For what it’s worth, I don’t believe Constance. She’s vengeful and spiteful. She wanted your job. It looks like she did whatever it took to get it.”
“Thanks.” She swallowed a sob.
The train’s wheels clacked out the miles until arriving in Independence, Iowa. Since she’d lain awake for hours, Ellen decided not to waste time. She dressed and packed her belongings. The job didn’t take long.
The other women filed off the train, heading for the dining tent. Lucy lagged behind, enveloping Ellen in a long hug.
Ellen’s throat stung. “I’ll miss you. Thank you for believing in me. You’re the only one.”
“There are more, I’m sure. What about Will? He stared at you last night.”
“Only pity. Everyone stared at me.”
“Don’t say that. I know you’re worried about your mother.”
“I can’t talk about her. She’s going to die because I failed.”
Lucy pressed a piece of paper into Ellen’s hand. “Here. I read this last night. It’s been on my mind. The words might comfort you.”
Ellen unfolded the lilac page.
Trust in the LORD, and do good; so shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed. Delight thyself also in the LORD: and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart. Commit thy way unto the LORD; trust also in him; and he shall bring it to pass. And he shall bring forth thy righteousness as the light, and thy judgment as the noonday.
Psalm 37:3–6
Trust in the Lord. Over the years, she had heard that admonition a thousand times. But how difficult to trust when your mother’s life lay in your hands. When your family relied on you to make enough money to get her the treatment she needed to live
.
“He shall give thee the desires of thine heart.”
She wanted to believe. Right now, the desires of her heart lay in tatters at her feet. “Thank you, Lucy. I’ll miss you most of all.” Ellen picked up her valise. Once they unloaded, she’d have one of the roustabouts bring her trunk inside the station.
The Alvena’s porter, Mr. Hickley, knocked and entered when she answered. “I’m sorry to see you go, miss. Constance don’t hold a candle to you. Anyways, the station master gave me this telegram for you.”
Ellen tried to take the message from Mr. Hickley, but she couldn’t hold it in her trembling hands. “Read it to me, Lucy.”
She feared the news to be the worst kind about Mama.
Chapter Eleven
Ellen sat on the edge of her berth and covered her eyes. She wanted to cover her ears and not hear what Lucy was about to read. She already knew. The lump in her throat clogged her airway.
Lucy sat beside her. In a soft voice meant only for Ellen’s ears, she dealt the news.
MOTHER ILL. Stop. MEDICINE RUNNING LOW. Stop. SEND MONEY. Stop.
Her pent-up tears burst through the dam. Ellen doubled over and sobbed. Lucy rubbed her back.
Today, she would travel home, a disgrace. Poppa had pinned his hopes on her. And she’d let him down. How could she face him? What would she say to Mama?
At last, she composed herself.
Lucy leaned close. “God will provide. He has so far. Trust Him.”
“I did. I trusted Him to give me a job.”
“And He provided one.”
“Only to rip it away a few weeks later.” Ellen wiped her face with an embroidered handkerchief. “I won’t make this kind of money elsewhere. I’ll give them everything from my last paycheck, but that will be all.”
Lucy squeezed her. “I’ll pray for you. You’ll never be far from my thoughts. I hope we meet again.”
“You’ve been a true friend. Thank you.”
Lucy left the car with one final wave.
Ellen picked up her valise and made her way to the door. The Alvena had become her home. She would miss it. All of it.
She stepped from the train for the last time and made her way toward the station. The ticket home would sap her money. What she’d saved in her trunk’s secret compartment to send Mama to the sanatorium. Perhaps she could find work in Independence. But she wanted to see Mama. To hold her hand and kiss her cheek. What should she do? Where should she go?
The Rails to Love Romance Collection Page 57
